


Made and Used and Wasted

by withaflourish



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Angst, Dreams, M/M, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-30
Updated: 2012-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-30 08:16:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withaflourish/pseuds/withaflourish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 221B written for John/Sherlock Day (Johnlock Day). Post-Reichenbach, Sherlock has finally come back to John... if John can trust what he sees, that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made and Used and Wasted

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by krillhei for Johnlock Day.  
> My first 221B: a bit of post-Reichenbach angst for you all.  
> Thanks to Shanzay for the beta.

The rage, the ever-gnawing loss, everything John had ever felt in the last three years – none of it mattered, because _his_ Sherlock, his magical, beautiful, brilliant Sherlock, was standing right in front of him. And although part of him wanted to punch the man, John knew that there would be time for that later. There would be time, and the thought sent a shiver through John’s body. Before he knew it, he pulled Sherlock’s head down.

And he kissed him.

For a moment the world...just...stopped.

But then it came back to life with a shudder, and everything began to whirl around him at double-speed. He was flying, he was soaring, and his angel, his detective, his Sherlock, was in front of him, around him, invading his senses with the smell of home and the sweet taste of words neither needed to say aloud. But then John opened his eyes and saw Sherlock’s own, grey as concrete and filled with sadness, and suddenly John felt himself begin to fall. The thick wool of the coat in his hands turned to grass and sod, and the warm, soft lips touching his became cold and hard like granite. And John continued to plummet and his hands were filled with nothing but fog and mist and-

With a start, John awoke, alone, in his bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Les Miserables "I Dreamed a Dream"
> 
> Then I was young and unafraid,  
> And dreams were made and used and wasted.  
> There was no ransom to be paid,  
> No song unsung, no wine, untasted.
> 
> Happy Johnlock Day everyone!


End file.
